


Ciao

by Celleti



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ciao, Dark Italy, Dark North Italy, Dark!Italy, Death, Knives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celleti/pseuds/Celleti
Relationships: Germany & North Italy (Hetalia)
Kudos: 3





	Ciao

**Ciao**.

There came a day when Feliciano wasn’t as usual. He had a far more elated, yet darker happiness.

Yet that was only realised in retrospect, as initially on that day, Germany was none the wiser to any shift in Feliciano. He appeared and seemed just as usual.

Until Feliciano quite literally pounced on him from behind, his arms wrapped around his neck- which would be normal if not for the fact that Feliciano’s hands nearly clawed at his neck, his fingers digging in fiercely.

Germany was surprised, which could be counted as a first in the presence of Feliciano.

With Germany’s surprise, Feliciano was able to hold him firmly, one of his arms slung taut around Germany’s chest. Germany’s eyes glimmered with a strange feeling of fear that was near foreign to him, every inch of his body shocked under Feliciano’s stranglehold. Far lower than usual and slightly husky, Feliciano voiced himself.

“Something wrong, Captain?”

Feliciano snickered tauntingly. “There shouldn’t be,” he tacked on, then lowering his voice further: “Because I’m going to teach you how to play a game.”

“I’ve been ever so excited to play this game with you!” Excitedly tumbled from Feliciano’s lips, hair falling into his eyes.

“Here, you just sit back while I teach. You needn’t worry about a thing, okay?”

Feliciano voiced his words sickly sweet, his voice rising in pitch to stress his words, as if to mock that Germany had ever heard such a pitch emit from the Italian’s mouth.

“Now, now, Captain, do stay still!” Feliciano’s high voice commanded as he procured a stiletto knife.

The stiletto knife was of alarming stature, and it seemed its purpose was to be pressed firmly, sideways, onto the forefront of Germany’s neck; just firmly enough so that he could most definitely feel the seeming omnipresence of cold steel, yet lightly enough so as not to break skin before Feliciano desired to.

Germany’s breathing felt all the more constricted as a result of this action, his heart rapidly pulsing. He was in a state of paralysation as his fear grew, and he barely dared to think should it somehow lead to a swifter demise. However, he decided that his demise was likely at this point anyway, whether swift or drawn out. He wondered morbidly when and how Feliciano would off him- furthermore, how many stiletto knives would he use?

Would he be offed only by stiletto knives, even? Slow torture or quick death?

Feliciano began to show signs of relieving some of his curiosities little by little, as he drew out another knife, and with his left hand holding the first blade forefront and centre at Germany’s neck, he used his right to hold the second knife, making a cut across his cheek before sheathing the knife that had made the cut into a holster. He gave a sadistic smile to Germany, revelling in the first mark upon Germany’s not quite porcelain skin. The smile was all edges and the glinting of Italy’s eyes, a smile that seared itself as a deep rooted phobia into Germany’s very soul.

“Captain, do you like it?” Feliciano’s voice rang piercingly. Germany flinched at the words accompanied by an expectant grin, before nodding slowly so as to appease Feliciano, with caution not to cut himself upon the stiletto blade that was assuredly still held at his neck.

“Okay, neat! Since you seem to like it so much, how about more?”

Germany’s uniform coat was taken off to reveal the tank top he wore underneath.

Another knife was drawn, and Feliciano clucked. “Ahhh, what next?”

Feliciano’s honey brown eyes gleamed. “I know! I’ll take off everything I despise!”

Feliciano then murmured: “...I’ll need a bigger knife though.”

Feliciano withdrew the knife he had taken out moments previously.

Feliciano then dug into the sides of his pants, where on the inside, pocketed, resided a large kitchen knife.

Holding Germany firmer now, Feliciano sawed off Germany’s muscles carefully, cautious to carve the correct shape.

Germany screamed in everlasting agony with every careful, clawing, incision. The slabs of flesh and muscle were lobbed off, and Germany felt himself bleeding out.

“Awww, I forgot this would make him go sooner! Stay and play with me, Germany!”

Feliciano didn’t understand that Germany had never wanted to play the game.

“Oh well, I can find some more playmates! Bye bye, Germany!”

With a tilt of his head and a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat’s, eyes ever glowing, Feliciano summoned another stiletto knife to his hand.

Feliciano ripped his tank top as it grew darker with crimson, the fabric practically peeling apart in its dampness. With the utmost care, he slowly drew a heart on Germany’s skin with his knife, the cut light and superficial, unlike the other cuts. His smile took on a sweeter turn now, somehow enhancing his sadism.

“...Yes, goodbye, Germany. I hope we can play again someday!”

With those words, Feliciano planted a goodbye kiss on Germany’s cheek, stabbing him square in the chest (right through the heart drawing) and murmuring softly thus: “Ciao!”


End file.
